The Enemy
by hugsnotdrugs69
Summary: I'm not good at summaries, but if you're looking for a Drarry story then look here!


**A/N: Well, this is the first chapter of The Enemy! I hope you like it. There really isn't much more than emotional images towards the friendship between Draco and Harry, but don't worry, the Drarry action will get here sometime. I know this is a short chapter, and I truly apologize! They will not always be this short, at all, nor will Draco's POV be in all of them. I will only have both POVs when I think it is necessary. So usually it will be from Harry's POV. Please leave me some reviews! I would be very thankful if you told me what you like and dislike about this chapter. Hopefully I'll be able to update soon, but until then: leave tons of reviews please!  
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**Chapter 1:**

It was all quite confusing. Spells were being shot from every angle, but Harry didn't even try to dodge them. He just kept walking forward, feeling numb. He had to die. It was the only way Voldemort could be destroyed. Everyone would be left to kill him themselves once Harry was gone. They would be the heroes for once, not him. Harry didn't deserve to be the hero, really. Nothing more than a seventeen year old boy, he was; just some child whom the world believed to be stronger than Voldemort himself. It was all just part of fate's terrible plan to keep him alive until the time came. And the time was now. At Hogwarts… Or what's left of Hogwarts, rather. Stone was crumbling all around of what used to be his home. The only place he felt wanted and loved.

But this had to be done. Harry trudged on, just barely missing curses as he walked right past them. Everything was blurry. His heart was pounding inside his chest; throbbing painfully with every _thump_. Cold, salty sweat covered his light skin, but he couldn't feel it. Everything from the tips of his fingers, to the tips of his toes were numb. Not of coldness. Not of some curse. He felt as though his heart had just been ripped out, though the constant _thump, thump_ was making it apparent that the blood filled organ was still there.

The thought of his friends, not even knowing where he was... It was maddening. Were they angry? Scared? Were they in danger? Had something happened to them? Tears burned his eyes as he was thinking of the dead bodies lying in the castle. All of those people had died because of this… this… Massacre. It didn't even feel like a war anymore. So many people were dying, yet no one knew who was ahead.

Sighing, Harry wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, feeling the cool sweat of both his hand and his forehead. Fatigue had been working on Harry's strength for the longest time; and it seemed to be winning. The forest seemed so far away now, and his legs just wanted to stop pulling him forward. His mind was telling him to turn around and fight instead of giving up. But this was the only way to end this war. To get everything back to normal. Or at least as close to normal as it could get after this.

"HARRY! NO!" a voice shouted from behind. It sounded distant, as though it were a life time away. Yet the voice still made Harry cringe. He knew that voice very well. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU BLOODY _ASSHOLE_?" Malfoy's voice bellowed.

This wasn't surprising. Malfoy had (dare he even think it) become Harry's friend during their sixth year. Yes, they were friends… The two would talk about many things, including Voldemort. Malfoy always seemed much more frightened of the topic than Harry, but never said why. It should have been obvious to Harry that Draco felt terrible about what he had to do at the end of that year, yet it wasn't. He had pushed the blonde away. Scolded him. Told him that he deserved to die. It's funny how irony works, isn't it?

Now, hearing that same, familiar voice made his stomach flip. The voice sounded strained. Scared. Hopeless. Nothing that Malfoy had ever let Harry see, even if he really felt it. Sure the blonde showed anger, stubbornness, arrogance, laziness, and sometimes even nervousness. But never any of the feelings he so obviously possessed now.

But Harry couldn't stop. He was just outside the forest, and nothing could stop him. This had to happen. For Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, the rest of the Weasleys, Remus, Tonks, Sirius, even his own parents. Anyone who Harry knew in his lifetime that was somehow touched by this damned war. It had to be done for _them_.

Unconsciously licking his dry lips, Harry stepped out of the battlefield and into the dark forest. Everything was silent. Even the leaves crunching under his feet seemed more quiet than normal. All he could think of was all the people he would be leaving behind. And that terrified him.

The sound of Malfoy's voice screaming, as if being tortured mercilessly, echoed through his mind. It was horrible… Almost blood curdling. It made him feel so guilty for leaving the blonde behind. Harry could remember when he called him Draco, instead of Malfoy. So many times had he tried to get Malfoy to return the gesture. To stop calling him Potter, and finally call him _Harry_.

That never happened though… Until now. What had changed? The farthest Harry ever got before was getting Malfoy to stop calling Hermione a mudblood. He'd settled on calling her Granger instead. The thought made Harry smile weakly. Oh how much fun it had been, teasing Malfoy that he had turned soft.

_"Lay off it, Potter," Draco groaned, pushing Harry away. It was obvious that he was trying hard not to laugh, or even smile. "Would you rather me call her a filthy mudblood?" _

_Harry stopped smiling, and shook his head. "I only want to make your life miserable," he joked, smirking as Draco had many times in the past. _

_"You kill me," the blonde snorted and rolled his eyes._

_"How so?"_

_"You just do," was all he said. Harry raised an eyebrow, but didn't press for anything more. It was enough for now. He would break Draco down eventually._

But Harry never broke him down. He hardly talked to him much after that. For it was the last _real_ conversation they had before Harry found out about Draco's plans to kill Dumbledore. Finding out made him sick to his stomach. Draco had become his friend, and Harry thought he could trust the blonde boy at least a bit. He thought that Draco wasn't a bad person; wouldn't ever do something so vile. Honestly, he thought that he had helped Malfoy break away from his pure, Death Eater blood.

That day had been both wonderful, and cruel. The beginning was normal. Harry and Draco had slipped outside and gone where they normally did, out at the hill by Hagrid's hut, and had talked. But later in the day, after dinner was when the disaster struck. Draco had been leaving the Room of Requirement when Harry found him. It wasn't such a horrible thing at first, but over time Harry had become furious.

_"What were you doing in there?" Harry asked the blonde boy with a raised eyebrow. _

_"That's none of your bloody business," he spat back. There was something different about the way he was walking; it didn't seem as proud as normal. And the more Harry studied the boy, the bags under his eyes and unhealthy glow to his skin became more prominent. _

_"Are you alright, Draco?" _

_"Leave me the hell alone!" he warned, stopping his stride momentarily to glower at Harry with what looked more like desperation, sorrow, and fear-not anger. After that he just continued forward, pushing past Harry roughly. _

_Harry just stood there with his lips parted, wanting to say something._

But he didn't. He never did. Yet he did his research, and found out about the vanishing cabinet and Voldemort's plan to have Dr-err-Malfoy, kill Dumbledore. He hadn't taken even a minute to try and get Malfoy's view of the situation. Instead he made the blonde seem like a terrible villain.

Though it took him until now to realize he probably never did more than what he was told to do. Draco really was a good man living with the wrong people and forced into the wrong life.

Shaking his head, Harry continued into the dark forest. He couldn't be thinking of things like that. Instead he should be wondering if death was going to hurt; if there might have been another way out of this that he just hadn't figured out.

In only a few minutes he'd be reunited with his mother and father. Along with Lupin and Sirius. Maybe death wouldn't be such a bad thing after all…

* * *

><p>Everything was moving in slow motion. Someone was holding on painfully tight to his shoulder, dragging him somewhere. Their fingernails were digging into his skin, even through his double layers. Draco couldn't even remember who they were, but he didn't try to find out. Instead he was looking around. His head whipped from left to right, looking for <em>him<em>. It hadn't been that long since he saw Harry… er, Potter, since he had just saved Draco's life only moments ago in the Room of Requirement.

But as quick as that was, Harry was gone again. Draco didn't even have the chance to thank him. The trio was gone so quickly, he hardly blinked once and they were running down a corridor after throwing a bloody tiara into the Room of Requirement. Whatever _that_ was about.

Now he was just worried. Voldemort wants Potter… Wants to kill him _now_. The foolish man should know that Harry Potter wasn't the type to cave in like that. He wouldn't show up… But where in the world _was_ he? Draco still scanned the crowd, his face covered in sweat and dirt. The idiot had to be around there somewhere right? Where else could he be? The damn castle was already almost completely torn down, and there was no way Potter would hide away in there. He wasn't like that either.

Draco was suddenly pushed down, hard and forcefully. It was a complete shock, and the blonde couldn't do anything to stay balanced. He had been shoved onto a sharp piled of crumbled rock from the huge castle deteriorating all around. Trying to stand up, Draco caught sight of a familiar black haired boy walking towards the forest. Throat dry and eyes wide, Draco bolted up instantly, and was held back by strong arms. The arms gripped his wrists forcefully, making a few bones crack. Not even feeling the pain and without thinking, he just started screaming. "HARRY! NO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU BLOODY ASSHOLE?" Draco could never remember screaming so loud before in his life. His lungs and throat burned horribly, and he could feel his own body shaking. The hands on him loosened their grip as he fell back onto the painfully hard, sharp chunks of Hogwarts. Sobs racked through his body, but Draco didn't care. He had ruined everything between them, even the friendship they had. Honestly, Draco had more feelings for Potter that he just never cared to share. Why should he? It wasn't like Harry was going to _die_ or anything right?

Ha!

Feeling a strange coolness cover his body, Draco just squeezed his eyes shut and tried to drown out everything around him. His body shook with every breath he took. All around were loud, blood curdling screams and people shouting curses. Sitting there, curled up on the pointy tone, he felt so much. He felt regret; hatred; love; fear… Everything. And for once, he cried. Tears poured from Draco's eyes, mixing with the sweat, blood and dirt all over him.

"Draco!" a voice hissed, just before a strong hand pulled the blonde out of his pitiful heap on the ground. "You should be helping! Get up! _Get up_!" the voice snapped once more, still pulling. Draco fought back, yanking his arm away from the man's. The man was obviously a Death Eater. He was familiar, yes, but Draco couldn't think of his name. It didn't matter anyway. He only wanted to die. Everyone was dying anyway. It would just be much better not to have to wait another fifty years for it to happen.

"Leave me the hell alone!" he groaned, stumbling and almost falling back onto the pile of rubbish. A hex was fired right at him, and just barely missed. One of the Weasleys were trying to get back at him. If only they knew. Knew of how willing he was to throw away his life and become one of them. A good person. Anyone but a Malfoy.

"You best watch yourself, boy!" The tall, thin, stringy haired man pointed his wand at Draco, but the blonde didn't back away.

"Sure, go ahead. Kill me! I don't care! But what you _should_ be doing is fighting this war!" Without another thought, Draco turned away and started walking away when he felt something grab his hand. It was warm, but not uncomfortably warm. It took him a few seconds to realize it was a hand. Draco beamed, and turned to see if it was…

But no one was there. The feeling disappeared in his hand, and he grasped hopelessly at the air. More sobs threatened to shake his body. He was alone. Utterly and completely, alone.

A blue streak of light hit Draco's chest, and he flew backwards. The curse didn't seem to have much more of an effect, except he felt even more numb; if possible.

The ground was cold, and very uncomfortable. He felt as though he was about to be buried at his funeral. Looking up he saw nothing but stars. No curses and hexes were being shot over his head- just stars.

"Draco…," a voice whispered, right in his ear. It was a male voice, and very familiar. A smile crept upon his dirty, sickly face.

"Harry?" he whispered back, happiness apparent in his voice.

"Forest…" The voice whispered, making Draco worry. Why should he go to the forest? Was Harry somehow calling him?

Or had he already been killed and it was just his spirit telling him?

No… What, had Draco gone mad in the last few hours? Now he's thinking that spirits are trying to talk to him? Oh Merlin!

But none the less, Draco decided to listen to the soothing voice. If it got him away from everything else, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

The blonde stood up quickly, and began running as fast as he could. His legs were numb, but they somehow carried him into the forest. Trying not to fall, Draco kept stumbling onto the cold, moss covered ground. He was now covered in mud, and even more blood- twigs kept scratching his arms.

Soon voices could be heard from just behind a tree Draco was by. He peeked around the side, a few leaves crunching under his foot as he shifted his weight. A sharp pain shot through his left leg. Something must have been broken. Or at the very least sprained or fractured.

The sight before him was sickening. His mother and aunt were both there, though Narcissa not as bold as Bellatrix. Voldemort was talking quietly about something, but his voice was too low for Draco to hear. When a short, dark haired man came out of the shadows, Draco felt his throat and chest constrict uncomfortably. He couldn't breathe, nor could he hear anymore. His heartbeat was so loud, it was thumping in his ears. Tongue like sandpaper, Draco couldn't say anything. He wanted to scream again; tell Potter that he was stupid.

This was the end; and Draco would be here to see the famous Harry Potter die. Most would think it to be a wonderful event for a Malfoy.

But it made his stomach churn, his breathing stop. He even got to the point of vomiting in a nearby bush. Though he didn't move afterwards. He laid there on the ground with blurry vision, his heart pounding and the faint sound of Voldemort's voice shouting, "Avada Kedavra!" filling the air.

At that moment it almost seemed that Draco had been killed as well. He slumped over, and everything went black; he didn't stir, didn't scream, just laid there. Cold as ice.

It really did seem like the end.


End file.
